


Warm beds, Warm bodies

by thoughtsthatfester



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: 5 x 1, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:18:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8901649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsthatfester/pseuds/thoughtsthatfester
Summary: Five times Illya won't sleep with Gaby on a mission and the one time he climbs through her bedroom window.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DunkinLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DunkinLove/gifts).



1\. Buenos Aires, Argentina 

“Why does it always have to be Nazis?” Gaby sighs. 

“Well Gaby,” Napoleon begins, “considering they’re just about the only enemy shared between me and Peril, I suspect we’re going to be spending a lot more time hunting down Nazis.”

“You’re not the one who always has to play one. I’m getting really tired of pimping out my Nazi connections.”

“Unfortunately that’s not an option on this one. Hopefully this will be an easy mission and all this will be wrapped up in a couple of weeks, or maybe you’d prefer if this one dragged on,” he smirks with one eyebrow quirked. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You know what it’s supposed to mean.”

“I’m not sure I do,” she huffs, crossing her arms. 

“What I’m saying is while I know you take no pleasure in playing a Nazi, I’m sure there’s some pleasure to be had with your Aryan boy toy on this one.”

Before Gaby can protest, Illya enters and tells her it’s time for them to leave. The two of them will leave by boat, crossing the Atlantic to Argentina. Napoleon will follow in a couple of weeks. She will be seeking out old friends of her Uncle and Napoleon will arrive later, offering to smuggle Nazi treasures out of Europe. Illya will only have a supporting role, playing Gaby’s boyfriend, chosen solely for his blond hair, blue eyes, and imposing figure. 

The Atlantic crossing is uneventful. They maintain their cover, but mostly Gaby just drinks and collapses into her twin bed. He plays chess against himself in the privacy of their cabin but plays a different role in public. He is Gaby’s eye-candy, serving little purpose other than being a physical specimen. 

She hangs all over him in the hotel lobby in case anyone is watching. Her arms snake around his arm and she leans into his shoulder. 

Later, she takes a meeting with her Uncle’s Nazi colleagues by the pool. She oils Illya’s chest and ogles him openly.

“He is quite the specimen,” one Nazi comments. “Where did you find him?”

“East Berlin. He’s Russian, but that can’t be helped.”

“Is he a true believer?” Another asks. 

“I’m working on that. What matters is that he’s loyal to me.”

Their conversation turns back to politics but Gaby makes a point of making eyes at Illya from across the pool. 

Their suite is extravagant with a massive King bed with gold drapes. He sweeps their room for bugs as she pours herself a drink. The room is clean and both she and Illya are exhausted from the sun. Illya is sporting an even burn from the oil she rubbed on him for show with the Nazis. Her hat and sunglasses have shielded her face from the sun but her arms and legs are bright pink. 

They crawl into bed, stiff as boards, against the sheets. Illya’s skin is hot and tight and he really doesn’t want to be touched. Perhaps she shouldn’t have used so much oil. 

He grimaces when she rubs against him, tossing and turning, trying to fall asleep. But in the morning, one leg is draped over his hip and he doesn’t seem to mind. 

He does make her rub aloe on his back. She doesn’t mind one bit. 

 

2\. St. Andrews, Scotland 

Once again she’s Illya’s. Napoleon plays a better bachelor. At least that’s what Waverly thinks. Illya could play the role – the KGB has trained him for every possible scenario. Either way, the two of them are most convincing when they’re playing a couple. 

Napoleon and Illya play golf with the marks. She wanders through town but it’s small, smaller than she’d hoped. She runs out of things to do and returns to their small room in the B&B. She wishes they were in a hotel but they’re all further out then necessary for their assignment. 

The room’s small couch is hard so she sprawls out on the bed and files her nails. She hates playing a Nazi but she hates the boredom even more. The scouting is done. She’ll accompany the boys to dinner to socialize with the wives. 

Illya returns soaking wet.

“You look like you were in a downpour.”

“Light rain. Is nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing. Illya, you’re shivering. Take a shower!”

“This is nothing. Scotland is not Moscow. This is not Russian winter.”

“Just take a shower. Why are you in this mood? Did you have a bad round?”

“No.”

“Just take a fucking shower.”

“Fine,” he huffs.

She sighs and business herself with painting her nails. 

Illya emerges minutes later in a pair of pajamas and robe. 

“You look comfortable. You must have been cold.”

“No. I was not cold,” he says, sitting down on the bed beside her. 

“What time is dinner?”

“Not until eight.”

“I’m so bored.”

“I am going to take a nap.”

“Golf too tiring for you?”

“No. Now please, move so I can sleep.”

“You can’t take a nap. I have been alone all day with nothing to do and no one to talk to. You can’t leave me hanging now.”

“You can sleep as well. It would be good. You were tossing and turning last night.”

“Gee, thanks, Illya. You’ve solved my sleep problem. I’ll just fall asleep in the middle of the day. Insomnia solved!”

“We are both tired. Please, you do not have to sleep, but I am going to.”

“Come,” he says, reaching out to grab her, “shh Just lie down and try to sleep.”

“Illya stop you’re going to ruin my nails. “

“I will be careful. And I promise, if I ruin them, I will fix them later.”

“Yeah, sure,” she rolls her eyes, but allows herself to be grabbed and pulled into the warm bed beside Illya. He’s freezing despite the hot shower. He wants to snuggle.

She lets him.

He doesn’t even say, “I told you so” when she wakes up an hour later, well rested and ready for dinner. Her nails aren’t even smudged. She loves sleeping beside him. 

 

3\. Moscow, Soviet Union

This time they’re engaged. She meets his friends, the real ones, the ones from his days in the military. He mostly even tells them the truth of how they met – East Berlin, she was the mark. They played a couple and fell in love along the way. Well, she’s not so sure if that last part is the truth, but the first part, that, she knows, is real. But when he tells the story, even she can’t tell where the truth ends and the lies begin.

The wife of one of his friends has been stealing classified information and selling it to the highest bidder. It’s Gaby job to find out which one. 

They socialize as couples and the vodka flows freely. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at her or maybe it’s the potent Russian vodka, but her face is flushed the whole dinner. They must look like the picture perfect couple in love. The same can be said about Illya’s friends and their wives. All of them well connected and powerful. All of their wives are beautiful, and one of them is smart enough to be running her own covert opp, stealing intelligence and auctioning it off. 

She should be trying to figure out who, but Illya won’t stop looking at her like she hung the moon. It’s distracting. 

And then he feeds her caviar and she thinks she’s going to pass out from the way he’s looking at her and the weight of his hand on her thigh. 

At some point, they switch from English to Russian. The English was just for her, but it’s forgotten the drunker they get. At first she can understand bits and pieces but the words slur and blur together. It doesn’t even matter what they’re saying because all she can focus on is the man beside her. The mission be damned. 

She drags him out of the restaurant into the cold Russian night. The vodka and her new mink keep her warm but she leans into Illya anyway. 

“I can’t wait to crawl into bed,” she slurs slightly.

“Only a couple of blocks to go,” he agrees.

“I’m freezing. Will you keep me warm tonight?”

He whispers something in Russian she can’t understand and his grip on her waist tightens. The streetlights are the only thing she can see in the vodka haze.

Suddenly they’re in the doorway of the building and he’s got her pressed up against the frame and he’s brushing the snow out of her hair and she’s practically panting from his touch.

“Come,” he says, “let us go upstairs.”

“I’m not sure I can walk,” she admits, her eyes heavy. “Will you carry me?”

He sweeps her up bridal style and doesn’t let go until he deposits her on the bed.

“Illya?” she says, slipping off her coat, revealing her slinky black dress once more. 

He doesn’t answer, ignoring her in favor of his bug detector.

“Illya,” she repeats. She can’t wait for him. She can’t wait a minute longer. Her dress joins her coat on the floor, revealing the lingerie Napoleon helped her pick out back in London. “Illya, look at me.”

“All clear,” he says. “No bugs were planted during dinner.”

“Illya, look at me,” she demands.

“You look very nice. Now please, get under the covers. You will be very cold if you don’t put any pajamas on.”

“I’ve been thinking about getting you back here all night. It’s all I could think about at dinner,” she purrs.

“You know my rule.”

“No sex on missions? Fuck that rule. God, Illya, just fuck me, please.”

He ignores her as he strips down, folding his clothes and putting on flannel pajamas. 

“How about a kiss then? That’s not against your stupid rule the last time I checked.”

“I will not be tricked. Goodnight, I am going to bed.”

“Just one? Please, Illya. You were such a fucking tease tonight.”

“I was a playing a role.”

“You don’t have to stop.”

“There are no bugs in room. And you know my rule. We can discuss this when the mission is over.”

“Fine,” she huffs. “Who needs you?”

She unclasps the front of her bra and tosses it to land right on Illya’s head. 

“You are drunk,” he scolds. “Cut it out.”

“I don’t think I will,” she says, pumping the lotion on the side table into her hands. She rubs them together to warm the lotion before making her way to her breasts. She moans softly as she plays with them, hoping to draw Illya in despite his stupid mission-induced celibacy. 

Her hands travel lower to their destination. She can feel Illya ignoring her so she errs on the side of drama. 

“Illya,” she grunts, “God, I wish you were fucking me. You should feel how wet I am. Fuck, Illya I’m so wet.”

Illya is silent beside her. 

“Illya,” she breathes, “Illya, fuck.”

She can’t hold out any longer. It’s all too much – dinner and then this, now, taunting Illya as he ignores her. She knows he can hear her, knows that if he had a little less restraint he would be inside her. 

She comes with a quick arch of her back and makes a point to moan his name even though she knows he won’t react.

It smells like sex as she joins him under the covers. He twitches to stiffen as she moves to spoon him, proof that she had an effect on him. 

“Goodnight, Illya,” she sighs with a huge smile on her face. She drifts off to sleep and dreams nothing but wonderful things.

 

4\. Cairo, Egypt

They end up embedded with a group of archeologists on a dig site just outside Cairo. Napoleon and Illya are archaeologists. She’s Napoleon’s assistant, but having an affair with Illya who has a “wife” and “children” back in Europe. 

She sneaks out of her tent under the cover of dark. The mark is having an affair with his assistant, which is why Waverly decided on this scheme. Gaby would run into Marge in the middle of the night as they snuck into their lovers’ tents. 

It ends up being worthless because Napoleon unravels the mark’s entire scheme days later while having an affair of his own, but Gaby plays her role like a pro. 

She uses her training to slip through the camp nearly unnoticed and then muffles her moans and she pretends Illya is fucking her instead of doing pushups over her. He holds her after because the desert is cold at night. 

He smells like sweat from hours spent in the sun and no showers. It’s hot and musky and once again she’s losing her mind in bed beside him. 

She sneaks back into her tent before dawn and takes care of business since Illya’s left her nothing but frustrated. She’s desperate for a cold shower. 

 

5\. East Berlin, German Democratic Republic

She is not happy to return to East Berlin. It no longer feels like home. She supposes it stopped feeling like home when her foster father died. It was never really home, at least not the home she remembered as a child – one of wealth and power. 

It’s the first time she’s been back since Napoleon swept her over the wall with Illya hot on their tail. 

This time she’s a recent transplant from Dresden. The rest of the story remains the same. Illya and Napoleon – the KGB and CIA – are both after her.

It’s supposed to draw out one of her neighbors and force them to reveal their intelligence ties.

Illya wins this time and she finds herself in a small safe house with him while Napoleon deals with her secret spy neighbor. 

It feels familiar. Illya even cooks for her. It’s not risotto but she likes it better. He makes her stew, a recipe he got from his mother.

“Are you going to hang me from a pipe so I don’t escape in the middle of the night?’ she teases.

“No. This I think is not necessary. You will not run away.”

“Perhaps I will. The CIA agent promised a chic hotel in West Berlin. And I just love hotels. There’s nothing like sleeping in a hotel bed.”

“Well, you are not in a hotel.”

“Then maybe I will leave.”

“I will not let that happen.”

“What?” she asks, making direct eye contact, “what are you going to do? Handcuff me to your bed?”

“Gaby.”

“It’s the only way you can be sure I can’t escape.”

“I do not have handcuffs.”

“I do. They’re in my bag. I was hoping you’d be the one to catch me.”

“We should go to bed.”

“God, Illya. I was hoping you’d never ask.”

“Sleep. We should sleep.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Stop whining or perhaps I will handcuff you to something.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“No. You are right. But please, let us go to sleep.”

“Fine,” she relents.

He methodically undresses and folds his clothes. She snatches his shirt seconds after he’s finished folding to so she can wear it to bed.

“I have a pair of pajamas for you to wear.”

“Hmm.”

“They’re very nice. Silk.”

“I think I prefer your shirt.”

He nods and crawls into bed, eager to avoid a confrontation. Using his special KGB training he’s snoring before Gaby has taken off her makeup and joined him and bed. 

She wraps around him like a vine and enjoys his warm body, the rise and fall of his chest, and even the sound of his snoring. 

 

6\. (West Berlin, Germany)

He’s only in West Berlin for the night. He leaves dinner with his coworkers, walks to make sure he isn’t followed and then climbs into her bedroom through the fire escape. 

“You could have used the door,” she smiles. “I’m almost certain I would have let you in.”

“Hello,” he greets.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to show up.” She’d been sitting on her bed in lingerie and a robe for the past few hours waiting for him to arrive. 

“I had to make sure I wasn’t followed.”

“Of course.”

“I have missed you,” he admits. 

“Have you been thinking about me?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking about you. Every night.”

“Good,” he leans down to place a kiss on her lips. 

“Do you want a drink?” she asks.

“No. Just you.”

She grins and laughs, kissing him harder. 

They fall into bed. He’s heavy on top of her. It’s a heady feeling, him kissing her neck, removing her clothes. 

It’s been over a month since they’d been together – been together like this, as Illya and Gaby – not characters sharing a bed on some mission in some far off country. 

He slides into her and she loses all semblance of control.

“Fuck. I love you,” she moans. Clamping her mouth shut once she realizes what she’s said.

He chuckles in a way that unbalances her. “I love you too.”

She lets out the breath she was holding and relaxes to enjoy the weight of him on top of her, the tender look in his eyes, and the stretch between her legs. 

She comes hard and at the same time as Illya and she holds onto him, keeping him inside of her for a while longer. He will be gone in the morning and she just wants to hold onto him, hold onto the moment a little longer. He loves her. She loves him. And that’s enough for now. There will be another mission, and more uncertainty, but nothing can touch these secret moments. For once, she’s happy at Illya’s insistence they keep things separate. He is just her in this moment – does not belong to the KGB or Waverley and she is just his and for a night that is all that matters in the world.


End file.
